


Lockwood's Cirque Royale

by WolfjawsWriter



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Circus, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 06:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15260967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfjawsWriter/pseuds/WolfjawsWriter
Summary: Come one, come all, to the greatest show in all London, the outmost match-less parade in all England, the incomparable; Lockwood’s Cirque Royale! Prepare youselves to be witnesses of the inordinate feats that are about to parade here; magical performances beyond compare, aereal dances never witnessed, exotic animals for your eyes' delectation!





	Lockwood's Cirque Royale

**Author's Note:**

> She needs the job

# Lockwood’s Cirque Royale!

## Do you have what it takes to be the next big star?

We are looking for wonders never seen, marvels from far around the world.

Contact us.

——————

 

It was not what I had in mind, not remotely, but I guessed it’d have to do.

My horse neighed under me, shaking his mane on a lazy manner.

 

“This could be our only chance, Rapier”

 

It took me a while to get here, the address was a out of town, and, being new in it, I barely knew my way around. With a gentle movement of my boot on Rapier’s side, he walked down the hill we had settled on, his hooves not making a sound on the grass. 

 

The enormous tent sat on the valley, its red, gold and white stripes showing the way it was perched on the metal foundations. I could hear the whinny of many other horses, bored and lazy as the afternoon drifted farther away. There were many carriages, which I guessed where for the actors. The smell of peanuts, sweaty animals and makeup lingered heavily on the air. There were many other smaller tents around the main one, all with red, white and golden stripes.

Near the main tent, there was a boy, not much older than me I’m sure, sitting on a big wooden box. He was wearing a pair of brown slacks, a striped shirt that was gratefully bigger than he needed, his sandy hair disheveled and a pair of thick glasses balanced on his nose.

 

“Excuse me” Pulling on my horse’s reins, he obediently halted a few steps away from the boy, shaking me a little with the paper on my hand “I came because of your flier”

 

He left the clipboard on the box he was sitting on, cleaning his glasses on his shirt and putting them back on before finally looking at me. He took the flier from my hands, not bothering to read it, but took the clipboard once more started to make a few annotations, asking for my work papers and name.

 

“Lucy Joan Carlyle”

 

“Yes, that would make you the last of today’s interviews” I jumped from the saddle, cradling Rapier’s snout with my hands “He’ll see you in a moment, I reckon _those girls_ won’t stay there too long”

 

And, as predicted, just a few minutes later a couple of girls dressed in burlesques attires rounded the corner, talking in a outraged manner. The boy didn’t bothered looking at them, only waved dismissively and then stood.

 

“If you’d care to follow me” Without waiting for me to answer, he walked away and I walked behind him, Rapier following me without me having to call him. I was surrounded by many more carriages than the ones on the other side of the tent. I think there were other people there, but I didn’t bother looking “wait here for a moment”

 

I was left standing there, outside a somehow big carriage. I clicked my boot against the ground and, at once, Rapier stood beside me, absently munching on the grass.

 

“Miss?” The sandy haired boy reappeared from inside the tent-covered carriage “Lockwood is ready to see you now”

 

The carriage was spacious enough, with a bed on the far end and a big wardrobe, and a black desk sat on the other side, full with papers. There was someone, a boy, maybe a year or two older than myself, with a black coat hanging on the back of his chair. He had dark curls that that fell on his forehead remarking a pair of complex eyes, and his torso rose high behind the desk. A charming and pleasant smile shone with his _(almost unbelievable)_ white teeth showing.

 

“What’s your name, dear?” He had a melodious voice, one deep like a tree’s roots and soft like a mockingbird.

 

“Carlyle, Lucy Carlyle”

 

“So, tell me, Miss Carlyle, what can you do?” His eyes fixed on me with an animalistic manner, predatory and challenging, a look that I knew too well to be surprised, having seen it in more people than those I remembered; focused irises, curved lips, one eyebrow slightly arise in question while the other one mocked you.

 

“I am an animal care-taker and trainer” I responded. That look was enough to get anyone nervous, not even those more experienced with it were able to escape its self-disastrous effects. Though, my answer seemed to put him off; the predatory look vanished and was replaced with one of slight confusion, then an intensity that gave away how his interest had been pocked.

 

“And what animals have you taken care of?” He bowed forwards slightly, resting his chin on his hand.

 

“I have trained dogs and cats in the fields of domestic pets, hunters and house-guardians, I’ve trained pulling, racing and show horses, and a lion pack” I tried to make it quick and brief, seeing as he already had my papers and was now looking into them, probably making sure I wasn’t just babbling. After a few silent minutes in which his eyes scanned my work papers, he looked up and gave me the most charming smile I had even seen. It was excited, electrical, powerful, a smile that seemed to shine like a lantern in the sea.

 

“Well, Miss Carlyle, this is  a very impressive curriculum you have here I must say. How many years have you worked with animals?”

 

“Since I was just a little girl, sir” He eyed my papers one last time before standing and moving towards me.

 

“Then I’m proud to welcome you aboard my circus, Miss Carlyle”


End file.
